


花言葉 (The Language of Flowers)

by lemoninagin



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: ...plz believe me, Ambiguously Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Izaya being awkward at courting, Language of Flowers, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, it's a mystery, like actual novel 9 spoilers, novel 9 spoilers like whoah, rarepair month, timeline stretches from middle school to post novel 13, where is he even getting all these flowers anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7380079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoninagin/pseuds/lemoninagin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya may be able to speak the language of flowers, but there’s times that Shinra thinks he doesn’t actually understand it. Then again, when it comes to loving two mysterious beings, he supposes some things are bound to be lost in translation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	花言葉 (The Language of Flowers)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frankypoisson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankypoisson/gifts).



> Fishy, I promise one day I will write you very fluffy shinzaya, but alas, today is not that day. Please forgive me, this pairing is somehow more tragic than shizaya.

It’s a sultry summer day when Shinra stays after school to reorganize the flowers in the biology room. Izaya is nowhere in sight, having skipped out on his duties to water the plants for the third day in a row.

 

He doesn’t mind, he’s used to doing it alone anyway. He’s not sure why Izaya even agreed to join the club in the first place when he can rarely be bothered to show, but he doesn’t see the point in wasting his time thinking about the why of such an unusual person.

 

He hums an absent tune as he waltzes around the room happily, sprinkling each plant with enough water to see them perk back up. It’s stiflingly hot, like a sauna, the sweet smell of so many different flowers a bit overwhelming and air thick around him, so he cracks open a window. He moves the succulents closer to the window, picks through and rearranges a shelf of sad looking carnations that Izaya was scheduled to water a few days ago.

 

He locks up the room quietly afterwards, wipes the sweat from his brow, and heads to his locker with a bounce to his step. His thoughts are on Celty, are on returning home and wondering if he can sneak a quick embrace in from behind her before she attempts to pinch his cheeks in punishment.

 

There’s a flash of color that catches his eye when he removes his shoes from his locker, and he places them on the floor so he can inspect the foreign object inside. He cocks his head in interest when he sees that it’s a single yellow rose placed neatly on top of his science textbook. The petals are full and perky, as if freshly plucked. Looking around the room, there’s no one in sight he can find that may be the culprit to such a strange act.

 

Twirling it in his hand, fingering the small thorns on it and reveling in the softness of the petals, he slips into his shoes and heads outside, heads home with a strange sensation eating at his chest.

 

He doesn’t understand.

 

They don’t even have yellow roses in the biology room.

  
  


♂♀

  
  


Shinra opens his eyes to a bouquet of peculiar, white, bell-looking flowers, blinking blearily as he tries to discern the shape as it comes into a slow, blurry focus. 

 

There’s an acrid smell in the air - antiseptic, something he recognizes much more quickly - and a sharp pain in his abdomen when he attempts to move. His limbs feel sluggish, like they’re made of concrete, and it takes him a few seconds longer to notice he’s in a hospital bed, to be aware of an IV chord embedded in his arm and the steady blips of a heart monitor going off.

 

With great effort, he pushes himself up away from the cold pillows supporting him, trying to ignore the twinge of pain zapping up his side.

 

“Oh good, you’re awake!” says a cheerful, feminine voice, and he whips his head around to see who it belongs to. 

 

The quick motion makes him extremely dizzy, and he wobbles, falling back down on his pillows.

 

“Careful,” the nurses chastises, coming over to his other side to take his vitals. 

 

She hands him a glass of water afterwards and then fiddles with his IV, switching out the bag of the morphine drip while humming an idle tune. His father is nowhere in sight, nor is Celty, though neither comes as much of a surprise to him. His father is  _ his father _ , and Celty would garner too much attention at such a place. Shinra pouts, wondering why his dad couldn’t simply let him stay up in their medical room, but in any case - he’s only sad Celty isn’t there.

 

“Ah...that’s right…” he murmurs drowsily, rubbing his eyes as he finally remembers the confrontation with Nakura, the stabbing, and Izaya asking him strange, stupid things.

 

Oh well. If Izaya wanted to take the fall for something he didn’t do, what kind of friend would he be if he stopped him?

 

He’s piecing together the rest of his memory as the medication begins to do its job while the nurse makes small talk about how his father will be there later and how he’d asked about him earlier. Shinra nods as if he cares, tuning out her voice that sounds sort of faraway and echoey now. Then his gaze is settling back on the flowers - it’s heather, he recognizes them from the biology room. But these look much healthier than the ones they had, and on top of that they’re plucked, bundled in a fancy red ribbon and resting in an expensive looking vase.

 

“Hey, uh…” his tongue feels thick in his mouth, and he thinks maybe he’s slurring a little when he says the words, “...those…where..?”

 

Shinra points a finger feebly to the vase, and the nurse looks puzzled, tilting her head to the side.

 

“Oh. To be honest, I’m not quite sure who dropped those off, since you don’t have any documented visitors. They were here before my shift even started today, sorry. Why don’t you focus on getting some rest?”

 

Her heels are clacking away, and time is passing slow and thickly around him as he tries to comprehend her words. Something about the vase is giving him a strange sense of deja vu.

 

The darkness of unconsciousness takes him shortly afterwards, too soon to properly reassess things, and by the time he comes to next he’s already stopped puzzling over it.

  
  
  


♂♀

  
  
  


Shinra is in his first year at Raijin when it happens again.

 

He’s eating lunch with Shizuo and Kadota on the roof of the school as they laugh and joke about the teachers they hate, the assignments they are frustrated with, and the girls they think are pretty.

 

Shinra doesn’t have any particular interest in the conversations, too preoccupied with the fact that Celty clearly was the one to prepare his bentou that morning. His head’s felt like it was floating all day, he thinks about how close he must be to finally winning her heart.

 

It’s about 2 months into the semester, and the temperature is boiling. They’re sitting in the only shady spot right below the overhang from the entrance to the stairs. The wind isn’t even blowing, the air still and suffocating. Shizuo and Kadota have long since shed their blazers, but Shinra keeps his on, feeling comforted by the blistering containment of heat on his skin.

 

He’s carefully eating rice, trying not to disturb the cute message of “Have a nice day!” written on top of it in nori when the door flies open, and Izaya’s dancing in and breaking the peaceful atmosphere.

 

Shinra greets him with an overexcited chirp of, “Orihara-kun! Have nice of you to join us!” right as Shizuo stands up in fury, fists clenched and ready to be aimed at his face. Kadota shifts silently out of the way, prepared for bloodshed.

 

“Control your  _dog_ , Shinra,” Izaya bites teasingly, side stepping Shizuo easily when he lets his fist fly. 

 

“If only he’d let me put him on a leash, Orihara-kun,” Shinra twitters, wearing a chipper smile that will probably only add fuel to the already precarious situation, “I’d be a lot farther along in my research by now!”

 

Izaya laughs as Shizuo roars curses at him, too caught up with Izaya to even bother aiming any at Shinra. Shinra simply smiles at the two, placing the lid back on his bentou just in case it gets caught up in the turmoil, and sits back to watch what will happen excitedly.

 

“I’m not here to start a fight,” Izaya says simply, smoothing out his gakuran and brushing a wild strand of hair away from his face. 

 

He gestures a hand towards Shinra, ignoring the fact that Kadota has reluctantly risen to hold Shizuo back from breaking him in half. It’s a ridiculously futile attempt at stopping his strength, but sometimes it works in guilting him out of resorting to violence.

 

“Here,” Izaya proffers, pulling crumpled papers from his pocket and bending down to hand it to Shinra, “For our project on Friday. I’m going to be busy for the rest of the week with work, so I thought I’d give it to you now.”

 

Shinra takes it, and the palm of Izaya’s hand lingers for the briefest of moments over his own. It feels unusually cold and lifeless. Shinra thinks it’s only fitting for a person like him.

 

And then he’s skipping away, flitting past Shizuo and racing down the stairs when Kadota can no longer keep Shizuo from letting his fury take over and he gives chase.

 

There’s a tickle of something sweet smelling in the air near him, Shinra notices, like the scent of cherry blossoms even though those have bloomed out long ago. He can’t quite place where it’s coming from, but then the bell rings, so he stuffs the papers Izaya has given him into his bag and he and Kadota shuffle back to class.

 

He’s not as surprised this time when he opens his locker at the end of the day to find two camellias, though his curiosity from that day in middle school is returning with great fervor. Again, they’re faded yellow in color and fresh, perhaps only having been in there for less than an hour.

 

Shizuo is the only one to witness it, his locker being close to his due to the order of their names.

He raises an eyebrow and strides over to inspect the flower as Shinra strokes the petals, gives a gruff, “Huh. You got a secret admirer or some shit? I feel sorry for whoever is that unlucky.”

 

Shinra laughs, but the sound gets stuck in his throat. His heart is racing much faster than it should, a slight arrhythmia, and he thinks about what medical reason he could be experiencing that would cause such a reaction.

 

When he gets home, he contemplates throwing the flowers away, but something stops him. He thinks about what Celty would say, how she would probably chastise him for getting rid of a perfectly nice gift. Despite the fact he knows keeping it would be something Celty would consider to be sweet of him, he still surveys the apartment carefully, searching for any sign that she’s home. Once he realizes that Celty must be out on a job somewhere, he pulls out a cup and fills it with water, situating it in his room in a way that he knows Celty will not notice it or stumble upon it. The whole thing makes him feel a little guilty.

 

Later that night, when he’s taking out his homework, the mysterious pungent smell from the roof fills the room again. 

 

It doesn’t take long for him to notice that it matches with the flowers nestled under his desk.

  
  


♂♀

  
  


Izaya is avoiding him, Shinra’s sure of it.

 

He’s been gone from school for almost a week since Shinra found the flowers in his locker. He’s sure the two things have got to be related.

 

He finds that his dreams have been interrupted by strange things lately, dreams with rainbows of flowers falling like a waterfall onto his head, raining down and sticking to his body like a second skin. There’s petals in his mouth, his ears, inside his nose - and they’re soft, velvety to the touch, and he just wants to lie down and wrap himself in them forever. Vines curl gently around his thighs, loop more tightly around his arms, holding him in place. The smell of earth is strong, the bitterness of rich soil wafting over his senses.

 

There’s anonymous hands that reach out to him, that pluck the petals from his bare flesh and trail their fingers down his back, tracing the notches in his spine lovingly. There’s a mouth, hot and insistent, dragging a tongue across his ear. There’s bony arms that wrap around his waist, shimmering black hair that gets in his eyes that surely isn’t his own, sharp, impossibly white teeth that scrape against his neck. Leaves cling to his sweaty forehead, his breathing greatly laboured, as the hands expertly rove over him, carefully brushing off the fragments of flowers and prying apart the vines, fingers traipsing up between his thighs and coaxing him to spread them.

 

“You’re  _mine_ , and mine _alone_ ,” a curiously familiar voice usually whispers - one which he can’t quite place - right before his alarm clock jolts him to a disoriented consciousness. 

 

He wakes up feeling tainted, sticky, and uncomfortable. He shoves aside the lingering feelings as he reassures himself that this is just the natural result of puberty, of growing up. These feelings will fade eventually. 

 

The camellias died several days ago, and he minorly regrets not having the forethought to dry them out to save them beforehand. He makes a mental note to do that next time, then feels foolish at assuming there will be a next time.

 

When he gets to school that next Monday, Izaya is there, waiting for him at the entrance to the building. He says he’s not waiting, that he’s just observing humans before class. Shinra smiles, tells him he’s full of shit as they walk inside. Izaya chuckles, a genuine, rare laugh, and Shinra seems to notice for the first time that it sounds sweet like the way the camellias smell.

 

Izaya changes the topic quickly, rambles on about the interesting humans he’s seen over the week from wherever he was wandering about. While they’re walking, experimentally, Shinra lets their shoulders brush together just the slightest bit.

 

There’s a moment where he’s sure he feels Izaya tremble next to him before he pulls away, creating a nice gap between them again. Still, as he’s gesturing with his hands excitedly during his speech, his fingers knock into Shinra’s at least several times.

 

And he doesn’t mind, as usual, because Shinra knows Izaya, he knows how he is and that this is just the way things are going to be - silent, secretive, familiar.

 

It’s almost comforting in a way, though he’s not so sure he wants to go there.

 

Then again, he would like to stick his hand into a fire just to gauge the effects of such, for sure he would enjoy examining the reaction of the way the burn blistered over his fingers and maybe up towards his arm, would like to experience the various levels of pain that would be inflicted.

 

Izaya stops suddenly, somewhat blocking the traffic in the hallway and disturbing a few students, who grumble for him to get out of the way. He faces Shinra, grins that mischievous grin Shinra finds his eyes lingering on longer than usual lately.

 

“Hey, Shinra,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, glances to the side, “Meet me in classroom 4A after school. I’ve got something important I want to show you.”

 

He bounces off, doesn’t even wait for a reply. He’s already guessed that Shinra will be there regardless. Shinra can’t deny that he isn’t curious, that he isn’t maybe a bit more thrilled than he probably should be. This is  _ Izaya _ he’s dealing with, after all.

 

Shinra’s stomach bubbles with some unknown feeling, his breakfast unpleasantly churning inside him.

 

Just like always, Orihara Izaya makes him want to throw up.

  
  


♂♀

  
  
  


Shinra’s accosted by a room full of plants, a familiar heady feeling of warmth when he steps into classroom 4A that afternoon. 

 

Of course. Classroom 4A is the botany room at Raijin. How could he have not seen this coming?

 

He’s shifting nervously, walking past the plants and looking over them, filled with a nostalgic sort of feeling. Izaya is nowhere in sight, so the picture fits all too perfectly.

 

He skims mildly shaking hands over the petals and leaves as he passes through a flood of fully blooming lotus’, sighs as he sits at a desk and waits. He waits for a while - 10 minutes turns to 20, and then suddenly he’s been lounging there for almost an hour.

 

Finally, bored beyond all measure, he heads towards the door, wondering if he can catch Izaya still hanging around so he can properly be an asshole to him for wasting his time.

 

That’s when he sees it - he doesn’t know how he missed this when he first came in, but there’s a small arrangement of flowers in an Ikebana stand, sitting right on top of a table near the door. It stands out, splattered with all sorts of different colors - a mix of vibrant pinks, whites, and oranges contrasting against the stark off-white of the school walls. 

 

It’s arranged by color and height, what he recognizes from past classes as moribana style, and it’s definitely not the work of a beginner. The perfect angles and lengths slanting and standing fluidly merge together, creating an illusion of shadows reaching out to him playfully on the wall. They’re orchids - beautiful, unique orchids with odd fringes on them. It’s his first time seeing such a strain, and he leans down to inhale their fragrant scent.

 

There’s a small card laying in front of the display, looping, fancy black script playing across it.

 

It’s the kanji for his name in the most girly, neat handwriting he’s ever seen, and he laughs. He can’t believe this, can’t believe Izaya would do such a thing. He’s sure Izaya will deny doing it later, even though it’s obviously his work since he’s the one who invited him. He thinks about teasing him for it immensely later. The stand is heavy, and he doesn’t want to disturb it, so he snags up the pretty note and leaves the rest there for the room to enjoy.

 

As soon as Shinra leaves, he heads to the bookstore, going straight to the plants and gardening section when he gets there. He searches until he finds the characters for flower meanings, buys the book and quickly goes home.

 

That night, he flips through the pages, absorbing everything he can find, looking up things about fringed orchids, about yellow roses and camellias. A flash of an old memory, of antiseptic smell mixed with visions of white heather, and more of the puzzle begins to click together. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think of this earlier, how he didn’t notice that Izaya’s been sending him little hints, little notes all along without even really saying anything.

 

He’s not sure what to think. Yellow roses stand for jealousy, yellow camellias for longing, and now…

 

He feels a strange sort of happiness, but he also feels guilty knowing his heart will forever belong to Celty. It isn’t for anyone else to have, but…

 

Maybe it’s possible to lend it out, to let others borrow it and do what they want with it?

 

Is that even what Izaya wants?

 

Jealousy…

 

Yeah, he can understand it, can understand Izaya’s motives all too clearly even with how vague he’s acting and how enigmatic the flowers he chooses are.

 

He thinks about it a lot, about loaning hearts and renting out love, even though it’s a silly idea. When he slips into sleep in the middle of reading the book well into the night, the anonymous hands touching him, exploring him in his dream have a clearer face and identity.

 

_ My love will follow you into your dreams _

  
  


♂♀

  
  


It’s another full year of awkward flower leaving - in his desk, in his locker, sometimes even at the door of his house, all different sizes, different variations, different colors. A full year of him and Izaya exchanging small knowing glances, brief lingering touches. An entire year of never actually addressing the topic of the flowers, a full year of dreams becoming more vivid and leaving him stickier and more confused than ever, before finally, _ finally _ Izaya makes a different sort of move.

 

They both share some unspoken agreement that it naturally would be left up to Izaya to lead this game since he’s started it, and Shinra’s given him plenty of time and space, his frustration mounting greater everyday with how impossibly shy and somehow passive Izaya can be despite how he acts normally.

 

He’s not sure what he’s been expecting  _ exactly _ from Izaya besides maybe a larger shipment of flowers, maybe something so comically overboard his entire room would be filled from floor to ceiling with them. Finally, though, these tiny seeds that have been slowly planted between them blossom open in an array of the most intoxicatingly wonderful new blooms.

 

It’s after school, the bell’s just rung and kids are filing out to go home, sounds of their chattering to their friends filling up the halls. Shinra is briskly walking down a hall, excited to get home to Celty, thinking about maybe making her some miso soup. Even though she can’t eat it, he knows that the symbol of such a gesture is sure to win over a little bit more of her heart.

 

He’s passing by classroom 4A, ironically, when he hears the roar of Shizuo furiously yelling Izaya’s name echoing loudly through the halls, and then the sound of something crashing. Students are ducking for cover, scattering about as they are more than used to the routine. There’s even mapped out emergency escape routes that the staff have taped up to the walls in case of such an occasion. Shinra whips his head around, wondering if Shishizaki-senpai may be nearby to help out, but there’s no one there but him anymore, everyone else having the better sense to get the fuck out of the way.

 

Shinra always stays to watch regardless, too fascinated by both boys as he examines the ways in which they interact, never minding much about getting caught up in the rampant tornado that is Shizuo and Izaya’s torrid relationship. He’s an outsider, a spectator that never joins in to defend either side, never feels connected to the events directly, but is greatly entertained by it all.

 

There’s no sense of danger or fear in him, just awe, like watching a terrible train wreck he can’t quite tear his eyes away from witnessing.

 

Izaya comes into view first, of course, with Shizuo almost there hot on his heels. Izaya spots Shinra easily, his eyes lighting up in recognition and giving a small wave as if his very life isn’t in danger, like he’s just breezing by on a casual stroll. He’s laughing, cheeks red with exertion and mirth, hair wild with some strands clinging to his sweaty forehead. His blazer is slightly torn and askew, hanging loosely off one shoulder, and he’s brandishing his flick blade. Shizuo is turning the corner right as Izaya lunges towards Shinra and grabs him by the wrist, practically dragging him along as he races down the hallway.

 

Shinra is so surprised he’s not even sure what to do, only cries out a small protest of “Orihara-kun!” that Izaya just laughs harder at. Some giant object goes careening so close to them Shinra sees his life briefly flash before his eyes, but Izaya is guiding him to duck and dodge to evade the projectiles with all the practiced ease of someone who consistently escapes the clutches of death and violence on a daily basis.

 

They are going at such a speed when they round the next corner that Shizuo falls behind, though his voice snarling threatening curses at them is still loud and clear. It’s then that Shinra finds himself being shoved into what appears to be a utility closet, finds his back pressed uncomfortably against a wall with a hand clapped over his mouth.

 

" _Shhh_ ,” Izaya says unnecessarily, and through the dim light of the room Shinra can barely make out the tilt of his head as he listens, waits for Shizuo to pass. 

 

His ear is pressed to the door, which Shinra would laugh at if his heart wasn’t beating so erratically, because why would anyone ever have to strain to hear Shizuo when he’s in a rage?

 

It’s a tight fit, and Izaya is close enough Shinra swears he can hear the beating of his heart, too, thumping in and out of time rapidly with his own. The only other sound in the cramped dark is that of Izaya trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving up and down heavily. 

 

Izaya’s thighs are lightly brushing against his own, and it sends a not-so-unpleasant thrill up his spine. Through the door, Shinra hears Shizuo call out for Izaya - once, twice, three times - tagging on “fucking flea” and “piece of shit fuck-face” before he seems to give up in favour of continuing his search to kill him elsewhere, stomping away angrily in another direction.

 

Izaya should be opening the door, Shinra thinks. He doesn’t understand why instead Izaya removes his hand from his mouth, trails it down to his shoulder for what he assumes is support, and just dissolves into a mess of giggles, not making any motion to leave whatsoever.

 

“Orihara-kun,” Shinra sighs, attempting to push his way past him, but the door knob is hard to find, “Let me through, I don’t have time to play with you and Shizuo-kun today. My beloved is waiting for me!”

 

“Oh?” Izaya is doing that strange head tilt again, eyes brimming with some unknown emotion. It kind of reminds Shinra of a fire sparking to life.

 

He contemplates again what it’d be like to stick his hand in the flames.

 

“You can’t even make some time to play with _ me  _ today? That’s a shame.”

 

Shinra’s not sure what he means by that, when that thigh moving teasingly against his own is pushing in between his legs - slowly, like it’s some experiment of Izaya’s where he’s testing all the possible end results, forming theories and predictions about how his research will turn out, on whether it will be a success or a failure.

 

Shinra doesn’t know if his reaction, which is to freeze up entirely like an idiot, is the one Izaya was searching for or was expecting - though that hardly matters when there are warm lips pushing urgently over his own. He falls back, reaches towards the wall for support as Izaya moves his body even closer, so close Shinra can smell the musky scent of his cologne and feel the tickle of his hair on his neck; so close he can feel the sharp, jutting outlines of Izaya’s ribs and hips, so close he’s suddenly very aware of that pesky thigh moving to jerk a knee up into his crotch. Shinra’s mouth moves of its own accord after the initial shock is over, and he’s surely not thinking of Celty for once when Izaya lets out a tiny, breathy groan as he deepens the kiss.

 

Izaya’s hands are starting to move more into the territory of heavy petting after he slides his tongue to meet Shinra’s, one inching cold fingers underneath the hem of Shinra’s shirt, the other slipping down to squeeze his backside. Shinra thinks he may even be letting out some embarrassing noises of his own when Izaya disengages, and before Shinra can foolishly grab his blazer and yank him back down, before he can encourage him to keep going, Izaya is putting space between them regardless. 

 

They’re panting, eyeing each other warily as if daring who should speak first. But Izaya’s never had trouble with conjuring up empty words, never had an issue with acting and covering up how he’s really feeling.

 

“Go on,” Izaya urges, lips upturned into what could be described more as a ghost of a grimace rather than a proper smile, giving him a light shove, “Go home to your darling since playtime’s over.”

 

Shinra moves stiffly, trying to ignore how tight his pants have become, unsure what to say - if there’s really anything that  _ would _ be appropriate to say after your best friend gropes and makes out with you in a supply closet on school grounds. When he’s reaching for the doorknob, Izaya glides past him and pushes the door open first anyway, throwing a wave as a goodbye behind him like everything’s still normal.

 

“I wonder though,” he calls back, voice lilting and playful, “Will she have any flowers waiting for you when you get home?”

 

Shinra feels like he might have just signed a contract with the devil.

 

His heart, his body, his mind surely forever belongs to Celty, that’s non-negotiable, but -

 

Maybe, just maybe, Izaya shares partial rights to his soul.

  
  


♂♀

  
  


They’re on the cusp of 18 when Izaya shows up on his doorstep one night, shaking rainwater from his hair and clothes, his mouth twisted into a painful looking smirk as he holds a clearly injured arm to his chest. Shinra sighs, rolling his eyes as he lets Izaya in, muttering about how he and Shizuo should at least attempt to get along for his rapidly dwindling medical supply’s sake. Perhaps he should start giving them both frequent visitor discounts. They graduated almost a year ago, and yet, he’s seen and heard of the two continuing to fight nearly every day, no matter how injured they always seem to be. 

 

And like clockwork, every couple weeks or so, a flower conveniently arrives at his door shortly after he puts Izaya back together each time. He supposes some things never change.

 

In that time since they’ve graduated, Shinra surely hasn’t seen nearly as much of Izaya as poor Shizuo probably has. They’ve fooled around here and there since that kiss in the closet, but it’s never anything that warrants being talked about or dragged to the surface to actually be inspected, both appreciating their respective time apart to do as they wish.

 

Celty is out on a job, one that Shinra is pretending he doesn’t know was assigned by Izaya. None of them are doing acceptable careers by society’s standards, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be talked about either. Izaya’s smirk falters, wincing as Shinra works his magic on his arm, dabbing it with antiseptic and then stitching effortlessly, like he’s doing something as simple as knitting a sweater. There’s a deep gash that’s stretched from Izaya’s elbow to his shoulder, giving a ghastly impression of a gaping, angry mouth.

 

“Shizuo-kun’s moved to using knives now, huh? You're lucky he didn't chop your arm off.”

 

Izaya props his chin in his free hand on the table, huffing as he turns his head away, his face darkening at the mention of Shizuo’s name. His clothes squelch comedically when he crosses his legs.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Like that monster would even need such a thing when his body’s one giant weapon in and of itself.”

 

Shinra stares as he rolls gauze over the perfectly stitched wound, prompting Izaya to continue the story by boring into him with his gaze. Eventually Izaya murmurs quietly, “...If you must know, when I was running away from the unruly beast, the fire escape I scaled had a broken bar. I just happened to get snagged on its jagged edge that I didn’t notice in my hurry to escape from certain death. So give me a tetanus shot too while you’re at it.”

 

After a pause, Izaya tags on, “I’m honestly more concerned I contracted a disease from Shizu-chan, he got close enough to breathe his awful monster breath on me this time around. Someone really needs to give the animal his shots. Or at least do all of humanity a favor, and put him down for good.”

 

Shinra snickers, ignoring the glare Izaya shoots him in return. The feared beast of Ikebukuro can’t land so much as a finger on him, but Orihara Izaya is easily bested by a lousy metal bar? Either way, the story doesn’t add up much - the gash is clean, skin cut crisply, in the way that only a proper blade would make. Too deep for a minor brush up with a metal bar, the look of it glaringly obvious whoever did it was maybe using more pressure than intended since it shallowed with the length of the cut, as if marking poorly timed regret. 

 

Shinra decides to play along with Izaya’s story anyway. He honestly doesn’t really want to know, though he infers by the way Izaya is acting that it most definitely was Shizuo that was the culprit. Shinra leaves briefly to get the medication and needle, comes back and administers it. When he jabs it into Izaya’s arm, it may or may not be a little more forcefully than necessary.

 

“So? That’ll be 60000 yen.”

 

“Haha, right,” Izaya says as he pulls something that is definitely not wads of cash from his jacket pocket, “You can keep the change.”

 

It’s a wad of crumpled, wilted geraniums instead. 

 

Shinra sighs again, heaves a, “Wow, thanks, you shouldn’t have,” as he gathers up his supplies and puts them back in his bag.

 

Izaya probably expects that he should be insulted, but Shinra is only more amused. He watches from the corner of his eye as Izaya traces idle, illegible characters over his table with his finger, humming softly. He’s leering at him in a manner that can accurately be described as predatory. Shinra’s painfully aware of his eyes roaming unabashedly over his form when he bends to stuff the bag back into a cupboard.

 

“Don’t take it too seriously, it’s a second hand gift,” Izaya says enigmatically, and before Shinra can question it, he’s rushing out a taunt, “I still think that coat looks ridiculous, you know.”

 

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t care what you think, Orihara-kun,” Shinra situates himself back in the chair across from Izaya, smiling the most sugary sweet smile he can muster, “I’m obviously being foolish though, since your fashion sense is so clearly far superior than mine.”

 

Shinra wonders how many puppies Izaya slaughtered this time, as he came in wearing yet another fur jacket, this one with a giant ring of tacky fuzz around the neck - only made more disturbing as it was deflated under the weight of water on it. He wouldn’t even take it off all the way when Shinra began to patch him up, choosing instead to let it hang from his other arm. He decides to keep the thought to himself and let Izaya sweat about the reason behind his smile widening. Shinra holds out his hand, trying to steer his amused face into an expression Izaya might be somewhat threatened by. He has a feeling it isn’t working.

 

“Payment, please.”

 

“No friend discount? So harsh.”

 

Shinra doesn’t understand why Izaya is acting like it’s so hard for him to pay, he knows he has more than enough money to cover four times that amount if need be. Honestly, he’s being more than generous with the price when he could easily ramp it up. Izaya finally digs out his wallet, pulling out a handful of bills. The cash is just within Shinra’s reach when Izaya jerks it back, rises to his feet, and throws a hand on either side of Shinra on the table, pinning him in place in his seat with a knee in between his legs.

 

“Or I could…” Izaya plants his mouth near Shinra’s ear, savoring the shudder Shinra gives in response, “...give you payment in another form, if you’d like.”

 

“I didn’t realize you were into that sort of business, O-orihara-kun…”

 

Izaya is peeling off the soaked fabric from his skin hurriedly, discarding that awful jacket from his other arm and then his shirt gingerly as he tries not to jostle the bandage, placing the money on the table so his hands can tip up Shinra’s chin and skirt over his groin.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m no common whore. Consider this as an added side bonus. A gift, if you will.”

 

“Ah, um, haha, well…can’t say that I won’t accept it...”

 

“Cash or credit, then?” Izaya giggles, yanking him up by the lapels of his lab coat.

 

“Is there even a difference with you?”

 

Izaya kisses him, biting gnashing teeth and a thrashing tongue into his mouth, and Shinra is taken aback at the forceful movement. Izaya usually kisses softly, slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world. If Shinra didn’t know any better, he’d assume that Izaya was on his deathbed due to the sudden change in pace.

 

He’s tense, tenser than he should be when Izaya’s hands and mouth are working miracles over his body, coaxing gasps and moans out of him like he’s never been touched before. He’s too busy wondering about the time, wondering if maybe they should move to the shelter of the bedroom rather than doing this so openly when Celty could walk in at any moment. Izaya notices how distracted he seems, removing his mouth from his ministrations that have zoned down to continue on his neck.

 

“Not to worry, I sent her out on a task that’s going to take quite a bit of time,” Izaya laughs bitterly when he says it, running fingers through Shinra’s hair, then removing his glasses and setting them to the side, “Though, I’m not sure I like this sneaking around. It seems pointless, it’s not like you two are together in the first place.”

 

“B-but, we  _ will _ be…”

 

“Sure, sure, right. Still doesn’t mean you need to feel guilty about the here and now. It’s too late to get your ‘purity’ back, you know. Your proverbial cherry has already been popped many times over.”

 

“True, but this isn’t exactly -  _ oh,  _ do that again - the way I’d want her to find out, if even at all...”

 

Izaya groans, likely annoyed by the fact Shinra’s brought this conversation up again. 

 

“Why don’t you just tell her already? Are you really that afraid for her to hear about all the nasty things you’ve done to me?”

 

“Y-you don’t understand…she’ll...she’ll turn me away...” Shinra avoids his gaze as Izaya slips his pants off his hips, strips him of his lab coat and shirt with the carefullest touch, like he’s dealing with fine china. It’s the only gentleness he offers, he’s biting hard and breaking skin immediately after. “I’m...I’m not--”

 

“She won’t,” Izaya cuts him off curtly, his tone with a malicious edge to it, “She’s a monster, and monsters can only truly understand love by being loved by a human. It’s the only way they can become somewhat human themselves. She won’t turn you away, there’s nowhere else for her to go.”

 

“That’s not true, so many people, ah...that I have to fight for her love…” 

 

Izaya gives up on trying to suffocate him again, trailing instead to mouth his erection through his boxers. He snorts, grabs Shinra’s hips to keep him steady and lowers himself to his knees. He tugs his boxers off with his teeth and much less finesse than he had with the rest of his clothing. Before he takes Shinra into his mouth, he lets slip something that Shinra suspects might be a confession of sorts - a truly scandalous one if his suspicions are correct.

 

“Trust me. A monster’s affections aren’t like ours. They’ll latch to one human, and feel dissatisfied by any other human’s love, no matter how many vye for their attention. It’s their curse for being unloveable. They seek out those who are the first to show them even a hint of what true love is or any sort of sexual offer, and like an addict, they can’t ever return to that original high with another.”

 

Izaya’s words become more hurried as he rants, saying most of it impressedly in seemingly one breath. He’s rubbing Shinra’s thighs, then moving to grip the base of his cock and fondling his balls. Shinra pretends to not notice how he’s having issues keeping his hands from shaking.

 

“But don’t forget, they aren’t capable of loving us in the same way. They’ll try, maybe, to emulate it, but it’s just not possible. That’s one of the main things that separates them from us - they lack emotion, connection, the faculties of rationality to maintain such pure feelings. And they’ll keep coming back for more and more, even if deep down they hate it…even if they hate  _ t-the _ ...”

 

It’s the first time Shinra sees something akin to a guilty expression on his face as Izaya trails off. Then he’s engulfing him into the warmth of his mouth, and Shinra is tangling fingers into his hair, back digging into the hard surface of the chair as he bucks his hips.

 

Izaya only pulls back at one point to continue the last of his confession, eyes aimed at Shinra but somehow still so faraway. His fingernails are digging into Shinra’s thighs harshly in a way unlike him, and he’s licking precum off his lip, replacing his tongue with teeth as he bites out his next words.

 

“They’re merely animals, creatures of habit. It’s disingenuous, and it disgusts me. But that’s just the way of monsters, isn’t it?”

 

Shinra couldn’t disagree more, and he wants to say it - Celty can’t be compared to someone like Shizuo, and surely their relationship can’t even come close to paralleling whatever strange thing Izaya has - or had - with Shizuo. The only thing that they have in common is that neither Shizuo nor Celty are monsters in the traditional sense, contrary to Izaya’s stupid beliefs. But if this is how Izaya seeks out redemption, he doesn’t mind, he’ll bite his tongue for now.

 

It’s hard to tell, however, whether what Izaya is after is really redemption and forgiveness, or just plain old punishment, like the masochist he is.

 

After some time with busying his mouth to keep from saying anything more incriminating even though it’s obviously too late, he turns Shinra around and bends him over the chair in a painful position. He pauses only to pull the lube that he knows Shinra keeps in his medical bag, then takes him right there in the kitchen with movements that are rough and far from calculating like Shinra’s used to. There’s a lot of hair pulling, a lot of cursing, a lot of fingernails scraping hard down his back. Shinra’s barely able to catch his breath after he comes before Izaya is dragging him down the hall, throwing him onto the bed, obviously far from satisfied. To be fair, it has been a while. 

 

Izaya fucks him again, a little more gently this time, careful in the way that Shinra remembers, in the way that Shinra knows is more his truer nature though he attempts to hide it. He plants kisses so lovingly Shinra can’t ever forget the feeling, like that of a permanent burn that leaves scar tissue behind forever. He pulls screams, cries from him that strain his vocal chords, whispers his name like a prayer, like a mantra when he thrusts. He moves Shinra into multiple positions tenderly, though never staying in the more intimate ones very long.

 

He even lets Shinra take him, too, until they both are too exhausted to move and Shinra feels himself being pulled into the warm clutches of sleep. Izaya turns away from him after, doesn’t move to clean up or make any jokes about Shinra’s technique, only curls up into a small ball. As Shinra begins to nod off, he hears something unusual, like a choked sob. He’s too tired to investigate it, knows it’d be pointless to attempt to try and get Izaya to talk about it, but he is faintly aware of his own hands moving, tracing soothing circles over Izaya’s back until the awful sound subsides.

 

And in the morning, he’s gone like he always is, leaving Shinra to pick up the pieces when he wakes.

 

But that’s fine, really, because he wakes to Celty pushing her PDA frantically in his face instead, her smoke pluming thickly around her and filling the room in alarm.

 

[S,HIZUO@ S B-BEEN ARESTTED!!!]

  
  
  


♂♀

  
  
  


In all the years following their sexual activity, Izaya has never been one for cuddling afterwards. So when one night on Shinra’s 23rd birthday, he can’t help but question how he ended up with an armful of the man immediately after Izaya pulls himself from inside of him and flops down on the bed.

 

“Don’t go getting used to this,” Izaya mutters, even as he’s situating Shinra’s arm tighter around him. They’re spooning, Shinra behind Izaya, and Shinra is trying his best not to squeal happily like a crazed schoolgirl.

 

“Orihara-kun is so warm and soft, even softer than my Celty!” Shinra squeezes him, lavishes kisses at the nape of his neck in between words excitedly while squirming against him, “Well, I can only tell from when I surprise hug her, and it isn’t very long that I get to do it since she usually punches me right after, but you definitely feel plushier and --”

 

“Shinra.”

 

“Yes, my darling, my soft, nice-smelling lover?”

 

“Ugh. Gross. Shut up or I’ll leave.”

 

“Alright, alright, no need for threats now!”

 

Shinra  _ tries _ to keep silent. He’s even successful for a solid few minutes, enjoying the feel of finally being able to hold Izaya like this. Izaya is tense as he runs his fingers softly up and down his side, obviously unused to such treatment, but he doesn’t complain. Once Izaya is beginning to relax - and even though Shinra imagines he’s probably about to slip into sleep - Shinra can’t help but speak his mind, bothered by the lack of an explanation.

 

“So, what’s the occasion? This is very unlike Orihara-kun.”

 

Izaya groans something inaudible, burying his face into a nearby pillow.

 

“Hmm? I didn’t quite catch that.”

 

“It’s your birthday, idiot. So happy birthday, now shut up.”

 

Surprised, Shinra peers over to see Izaya’s face, which is still buried in shame in the pillow. He lays a finger on Izaya’s cheek, who turns at the touch in question. Shinra smiles, catching him more off guard by planting a sloppy kiss over his mouth.

 

“What was that for?” Izaya says when he pulls away, cheeks brightly flushed.

 

“For not being as much of an asshole as you could have been, I guess.”

 

“Careful, I can always change that.”

 

Shinra laughs, situating himself back to snuggling, letting his hands continue to roam. He traces aimless patterns over Izaya’s skin, trails fingers up the notches of his spine and over the curves of his ass and hips. He really is soft. His hands also don't seem cold for once, Shinra notices as he plays with one absently. Izaya stirs at the gentle touches, small whimpers escaping him, not making a move to do much more besides curling his trembling fingers into the sheets and hiding his face again.

 

“Orihara-kun.”

 

“Hmm? What now?”

 

“I think Celty is going to accept my love soon. I can feel it,” he whispers breathily, excitedly into Izaya’s neck. He’s been thinking about this for a while as he and Celty have grown closer since he’s grown older. It won’t be long now.

 

Izaya sighs, then chuckles. Surprisingly he rolls over, encircling his arms around Shinra’s waist and pulling him tight to his chest.

 

“Are you going to invite her to join us, then? You’ll have to tell her, you know. As much as I enjoy observing infidelity in my humans, I’m not particularly interested in doing so to Celty. I’m not really up to be caught in yet another monster’s wrath, Shizu-chan’s enough of a problem as it is.”

 

He omits the fact that this is likely because he has other plans for Celty. Shinra has always gotten the impression there’s a reason he utilizes Celty, and keeps from pissing her off much. He knows half the reason is for him, but since this is Izaya he’s dealing with - there’s always another half to the story.

 

“You mean, you’d be interested in  _ us. _ ..you know…”

 

Izaya hums, inhaling at Shinra’s scalp, “Sure, why not. She’s not bad looking, though I’m not exactly thrilled about the headless part. Never did understand what gets you so excited about that.”

 

“Wow, and you call me the pervert!”

 

Izaya snorts, pressing closer to him and intertwining their legs while he fluffs Shinra’s hair, “You  _ are _ a pervert, a very hopeless one at that. It just so happens I’m  _ curious _ , I mean…” he pulls back enough to look at Shinra, revealing the devious glint in his eye, “The things she could do with those shadows...I’m sure you’ve more than thought about that.”

 

“Haha, only for about a decade now. Actually, I have a whole journal that documents all the dreams I’ve had about it since puberty…” Shinra sighs happily, a faraway look in his eye as his thoughts travel back to those lovely dreams. If he wasn’t already so tired, he’d surely be jumping Izaya’s bones again because of how much it’s working him up.

 

“That’s not surprising.”

 

Shinra contemplates the pros and cons of it. They wouldn’t all have to sleep together to make it work, but perhaps it would be good if the two got along to a certain degree. Surely, their relationship was not as volatile as Izaya’s relationship with Shizuo, so he doesn’t see the harm in it. To a degree, he imagines he might be jealous watching the two of them be intimate, but if he’s there as well, at least he can referee or interfere if need be.

 

He’s still anxious about Celty’s response, but it’s not a bad suggestion by any means. He plants a kiss to Izaya’s collarbone, closing his eyes in preparation of calling it a night. He’s never felt this warm and comfortable after sex before. He delights himself in the fantasy that Izaya might actually be there when he wakes up.

 

“...fine. I’ll tell her once she accepts my love. But if she rejects the both of us, I’ll most likely kill you.”

 

It really isn’t a joke.

 

“Mmm, well you might as well get in line for that now. There’s quite the waiting list for other people who plan to do so.”

  
  
  


♂♀

  
  


Nearly a year later, Shinra is shuffling abashedly out into the living room at Izaya’s insistence, his hand shoving Shinra’s back through the door as he whines a weak protest. Izaya waits around the corner, watching the events play out with great interest.

 

“H-Hey Celty.”

 

Celty turns to him on the couch, tearing her smoky gaze from some gitchy sci-fi show. Her fingers glide over the keyboard of her PDA, slinging it towards him as she focuses on the screen again. Her body language is fairly stand-offish.

 

[What do you want. I already told you I’m not putting on _that_ outfit, you pervert, so just forget it!]

 

“No, it’s not about that this time, I promise! I was just wondering...uh...do you like flowers?”

 

Celty’s fingers pause over her PDA. Smoke pours curiously around her, shadows stretching out in surprise at the unexpectedly non-perverse question. She types after she thinks about it for a moment.

 

[Well, of course. I mean, who wouldn’t like flowers?]

 

“Right, naturally.”

 

[Why do you ask?]

 

The smoke drifting around the room conveys emotion Shinra recognizes as suspicious, with a side order of intrigued. Shinra sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s really now or never.

 

“I...might have a proposition to make…”

 

Shinra dodges away from the sudden fist of her shadow, putting up his hands to signal peace.

 

“No, no, again - nothing like that! Er, well…I suppose it’s not the purest request, but...”

 

Before Celty can force Shinra into shadow ball jail again, Izaya decides to slink further out into the living room after observing Shinra being anything but tactful with his speech, wearing only his boxers and smiling much too wide for his face.

 

He proffers a red camellia to a shocked looking Celty, who is whipping her head back and forth between the half-naked Izaya and a sheepishly grinning Shinra, piecing together things slowly as she realizes Izaya came from the direction of Shinra’s bedroom.

 

Izaya bows deeply after Celty takes the flower numbly. Shinra gives them a thumbs up from where he’s currently being restrained by shadows that have tangled around him in half-surprise, half-annoyance that Shinra hadn’t been up front with her earlier. Smoke plumes out of her like a chimney while she tries to collect herself and process this new information. Rising from the couch, she draws nearing to them, fingers frantically mashing at the keys.

 

“What Shinra’s trying to say, but failing miserably at, is that we’d really appreciate it if you joined us, Courier-san.”

 

[!!! cuibcjnjnjkn3fk9793@@???? what!!!]

 

“Yeah, we think it’d be a lot of fun! What do you say, Celty, my love?”

 

Izaya doesn’t even flinch as tendrils snake around him, lifting him to join Shinra in his web. Celty ignores his smirking face, shoving her PDA at Shinra so that Izaya can’t see the screen.

 

[...I! You! Izaya?!]

 

“Yes.”

 

[You’re together? L-like _that_? With this jerk?]

 

“Yup!”

 

[...]

 

“It’s perfectly fine if you’d prefer we keep all our bedroom activities separate. But I think it just might be easier in the long run if we all came together!”

 

[...]

 

“And yes, I do mean that as a double entendre! If you’d like that, of course.”

 

“Oh my,” Izaya laughs, even as thick bands of swirling shadow threaten to cut off his circulation. 

 

Shinra’s smile never wavers as he waits for his beloved to respond, overflowing at the thought he’ll get to devote equal time to the both of them now. He may not have a physical relationship with Celty yet, but he knows that his love for her is strong, and he’s confident he can make this work out in a way that will keep her and Izaya very happy. Celty’s body shakes, and for a moment he and Izaya share a telepathic look, wondering if maybe they should have gone about this a little more delicately. It’s then that Shinra notices she’s quaking with noiseless laughter, something Izaya doesn’t recognize immediately. 

 

[...alright. I’ll think about it. But if I do it, I only have one condition, since I’d have to put up with two assholes rather than one.]

 

“Great, I knew you’d be into it! Ah, well, or might be into it? And anything you’d like, my dear, my honey, my darling!”

 

Izaya is craning his neck, attempting to see the screen of her PDA as curiosity overwhelms him, but Celty tightens the strands keeping his head in place. The two ignore him as he splutters and chokes, fighting to pull air into his lungs. Shinra gets the impression that despite Celty lacking a face to read emotion from, she is clearly smiling deviously.

 

[I get full say of what we do in the bedroom!]

  
  
  


♂♀

  
  


Shinra wakes up to the familiar sight of Izaya’s bare back, the first remnants of sunlight splaying tiny orange splotches off his defined muscles. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, pulling on pants and then leaning back, pausing to watch the sun rise from the window. Shinra lets him have a moment of silence, relishing in watching his own perfect view, this quiet moment where Izaya looks as content and as peaceful as he feels.

 

It’s been about half a year since Celty agreed to join them, and it’s one of the rare mornings where all three of them happened to have time off. Though they often have sex together, Shinra spends a fair amount of time with each of them individually to keep them both satisfied and tension low between them due to their clashing personalities. Things have been going fairly smoothly ever since - Celty even relents her need for control and dominance every once in awhile when she feels like it.

 

He plants a kiss on Celty’s shoulder, tracing a pattern aimlessly between her shoulderblades. He’s never been happier.

 

“Orihara-kun, good morning,” Shinra whispers gently after he lets Izaya watch in peace for a few minutes, “Will you be staying for breakfast?”

 

Shinra already knows what the answer will be, but he figures there’s no reason to not continue to ask. Izaya may be a creature of habit, but as Shinra well knows after observing many different creatures in Ikebukuro throughout his life, they can still be apt to change every now and then. He has managed, after all, to successfully get Izaya to stay until morning. Izaya doesn’t jump at the sound of his voice, nor does he look back.

 

“No thanks. You’ll probably put something weird in my pancakes.”

 

“Ah, you’ve finally discovered my secret,” Shinra laughs, pulling off the sheets carefully so as not to disturb Celty and sneaking up behind Izaya so he can wrap his arms around him, ”The one where I put a deadly love potion in my ingredients!”

 

He kisses Izaya’s neck, gives a small love bite next to the large one he made the night before. Izaya’s only response is in the way his body tenses, and the small cant of his head as he allows Shinra better access. Shinra runs fingers up his sides, circles with the faintest touch over his nipples. Izaya’s breathing is starting to grow labored by the time Shinra finishes sucking and begins to move towards his ear, dragging his tongue up slowly like he knows Izaya likes it.

 

“Oh, but it’s not like that would affect you at all, would it? It seems you’re already quite smitten with me!”

 

Izaya makes a disgruntled noise, shaking out of his hold as he moves to gather his shirt and pulls it on, forever and always denying Shinra that second special morning after romp he’s been trying to coax from him for months since he’s started staying over. Shinra’s beginning to think that maybe telling Izaya it was a lovers’ milestone in a relationship may have been more of a deterrent than the persuasion he was hoping for it to be.

 

“You wish.”

 

Shinra beams, not bothered at all by Izaya’s aloof behavior. Instead he reaches for the vase that’s sitting by their bed, picks a red rose from it, and stands up to dangle it obnoxiously in front of Izaya’s face.

 

“Then what’s this then, huh? Huh?!”

 

“A dead flower.”

 

And Izaya bats it out of his hand, smirking lightly as it falls to the floor and its petals flake off. He looks around for his knife and cellphone while Shinra whines, which must have gotten lost in the fray of clothes being removed. Celty shifts at their increasingly louder voices. More than used to this routine, she continues to stay in bed, pulling the sheets over her neck and then forming shadows as a soundproof shield around her body so she can sleep in peace.

 

“Why would you do such a thing?” Shinra puts a hand to his mouth, acting aghast.

 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

 

Izaya spots his cellphone, which is on Shinra’s lab coat, then his knife, which is folded by Celty’s helmet.

 

“Well, I still think it’d be a useless thing for me to do, seeing as you two already love me, and I love you,” Shinra coos, padding up to Izaya so he can give him a small peck on his cheek. 

 

He’s thrown on an old shirt of Izaya’s and nothing else, enjoying the way wearing the color black feels, like he’s a part of something unattainable rather than just an observer of it.

 

Izaya’s just managed to pick up his flick blade when it clatters to the floor again at Shinra’s words, his mouth opening in surprise. He catches himself quickly, scooping up the flick blade, and then practically dashes out of the bedroom.

 

“What? Are you going to the kitchen?” Shinra clasps his hands together, trailing after him excitedly. He knew if he asked enough times, Izaya eventually wouldn’t be able to resist partaking in his and Celty’s shared domestic love nest. “Have you decided to try out my love pancakes after all?”

 

“Don’t ever say that to me again.”

 

“Eh? What, pancakes?” Shinra frowns, watching as Izaya slips his shoes on after he gets to the genkan, completely missing the kitchen, “Sorry, I didn’t realize you don’t like them. Sometimes I forget Shizuo-kun’s the one with the sweet tooth. But I can always make you something else!”

 

Izaya turns to him, mouth opened as if to respond, then shakes his head. He’s clearly upset, Shinra can see that now, his mouth a thin line and eyes dangerously narrowed. Before Shinra can ask him what’s wrong, the door is slamming in his face.

  
  
  


♂♀

  
  
  


It’s about a week after Shinra found out Izaya got stabbed, and he’s busying himself with cooking, cleaning the house since he and Celty returned from their trip. His fingers itch to dial a familiar number, wanting to carry out something he can’t seem to work up the courage to do. Celty, despite never quite completely warming up to Izaya, has even been giving him the cold shoulder about it lately. 

 

He hasn’t seen Izaya since that morning he stormed out, not even so much as a text sent his way until Izaya called him from the hospital, and a part of him is still holding that against him. There’s guilt gnawing apart his mind when he thinks about the last words he said to Izaya on the phone, so he scrubs, and dusts, and wipes up the grime until his hands are on the verge of bleeding from being overworked.

 

He ignores the knock on the door, ignores the voice of a delivery man announcing the arrival of a package. It’s late by the time he finishes making the entire apartment sparkling clean, his bones and body weary beyond belief. But he’s proud, he knows Celty will appreciate it, that Celty will come back and maybe even shower him in hugs and praises as a reward.

 

As long as he has her love, he thinks he’ll be alright.

 

He almost forgets about the package, curling up onto the couch and laying on his back to rest, when Celty arrives. He recognizes the dainty shuffle of her footsteps, committed to memory every tiny noise that her shadows make, a sort of shifting, fluid sound like an odd wind. She’s by his side in no time, dropping a small box onto his stomach. She types words on her phone that Shinra already knows, and he tenses, tentatively grabbing the box and shaking it gently.

 

It’s light.

 

He laughs out some quick, lame excuse, saying something embarrassingly lovey-dovey to distract her as he takes the box to his room to open it.

 

When he’s closed the door and double checked the lock, he works shaking fingers to peel the tape from the box, flips open the lid.

 

Color spills out, bright and permeating, long leaves unfurled and connected to a medium sized stalk. It’s a potted tulip - yellow again - gorgeous blooms reaching out towards the ceiling. It’s a shocking contrast to the darkness of his room, and he flicks on the light to try and dull its beauty.

 

It doesn’t quite work.

 

He pulls out his phone, fumbling with the keys in his urgency to identify the meaning behind such a thing online as his book seems too far away, as if the ways in which Izaya works can be that easily deciphered.

 

And then his hands are falling limply at his sides, and he’s biting his lip when he sees the words on his screen, bright and cheery in a way that doesn’t match with the current atmosphere at all:

 

_ One-sided love. _

  
  
  


♂♀

  
  
  


Izaya’s wrong.

 

Izaya’s dumb, and Shinra can hardly stand the fakeness of his smirk when he finally slinks over to visit him a few weeks after the accident with Adabashi.

 

“Did you get my message?” he trills, and the noise is so annoying Shinra almost covers his ears. He shifts into a more comfortable position on the bed, trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his broken bones that Izaya is just making worse. 

 

“Just stop it, _Izaya_ ,” he sighs tiredly, tipping his head back on the pillows to throw him a weak glare, “I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now.”

 

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter. It’s not important anyway,” Izaya shrugs, his voice cold and blunt.

 

Izaya comes over to fluff his pillows, never quite meeting his eyes, being exceedingly careful with how much pressure he’s using so close to his fragile body. Shinra watches him silently, and he doesn’t know why he does what he does next, but it happens anyway - he turns his head, lands a small kiss on Izaya’s knuckle as he kneads the stuffing.

 

Izaya immediately jumps back, it’s almost comical, like a startled cat hunching up. He’s pissed, Shinra can tell by the way his hands clench slightly, the twitch of his eyebrow and small flare of his nostrils giving him away.

 

“I don’t know what game you’re playing at,” he mumbles, tone still icy as he stands stiffly by the bed, “But I’m not here for that. I’ve got plenty of other much more worthy humans I can spend my time with. I don’t need you, you’re inconsequential.”

 

Shinra chuckles weakly, offering a half-lidded stare. He feels dizzy, he feels annoyed, he wishes he could simultaneously hold Izaya and tell him how stupid he is, but also maybe push him down a flight of stairs. His words sting for once, stick to him like a suffocating glue.

 

“You’re wrong,” Shinra slurs, the pain pills dulling feeling behind his eyes and making the words feel thick like his throat’s clogged with honey, “It’s the wrong color, it’s all wrong. You’re being childish.”

 

Shinra doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore after that, he rants and raves on about flowers, about different species he’s researched, of how you shouldn’t really put gardenias in too direct sun. 

 

“Gardenias! There’s a plant I’ll think you’ll enjoy!” he spits, and he’s sure his voice is rising, he’s sure his eyes are wild and alight with the unfamiliar fury he feels racing through his veins, “Why don’t you lay those out in a nice row for me at my welcome mat? Plant me a little garden maybe? Line it up with some wonderful yellow roses, that’ll go well with it, I think! Throw in your stupid tulips too, I don’t care!”

 

Izaya is tilting near him, and he can’t be sure if he’s bending over or if the medication is warping his perception. He hopes Celty will come home and save him soon, he doesn’t want Izaya to see him like this, doesn’t want those piercing, calculating eyes looking through him.

 

But then there are soft lips pressing to his own, careful and with the lightest touch he thinks anyone has ever given him, and gentle fingers sift through his hair, brushing bangs from his sweaty brow. He feels a wetness on his face, feels those smooth fingers wiping his cheeks dry.

 

Izaya pulls away, and Shinra huffs, chest heaving as he wills himself to calm down and get a grip on the emotions finally pouring out of him. He wretches out a last sob before Izaya moves, comes back with something in his hands and places it on the table next to the bed.

 

He doesn’t want to look at it, he doesn’t want to think about it. Izaya plants one last curse on his forehead, smoothing back his hair and looking at him with an indecipherable expression. It isn’t cold and cruel anymore - Shinra thinks maybe it’s melancholic.

 

It’s not a good look for him.

 

“I have some plans, some big things set in motion. I just wanted to give you a proper goodbye in case things go awry.”

 

Izaya’s voice quakes unusually. Shinra can barely make out the shape of his hands fluttering back and forth towards him and then away, as if he can’t quite decide what he wants to do.

 

“I love you, you’re being stupid!” Shinra is unable to keep himself from shouting, angry that he can’t get up, angry that Izaya is using that fact to his advantage, ”I _do_ love you, even Celty loves you, and you’re just going to have to deal with it!”

 

“I’m sorry, I...” he says softly, so quietly Shinra almost misses it, and the blurry outline Shinra can make out of him turns away, “I…”

 

Then, predictably, Izaya leaves. He doesn’t finish what’s on his mind, and he runs like the coward he is.

 

It’s a long time before Shinra finds the strength to move, a long time before the tears stop rolling down his cheeks.

 

With the last of his energy, he turns to the vase of flowers on the table, and a feeling of dread overtakes him. Bright red, thin spidery petals curl down, with spindles facing up as well, held by a short green stem. It’s breathtakingly beautiful, it’s breathtakingly painful

 

He recognizes it from his book immediately, a red spider lily.

 

There’s nothing more he wants to do right now than to break the vase, to crush the flowers inside, to feel the petals crumble beneath his fingers. There’s nothing more he’d like than for Celty to come home and hold him for hours.

 

This isn’t fair, none of this is fair.

 

Izaya is wrong.

  
  
  


♂♀

  
  
  


It’s about a year after Shizuo and Izaya’s last fight, about a year after Izaya disappeared without a trace, when Shinra receives a simple package, a small brown box with no return address.

 

Celty is on the couch, engrossed in playing a video game. He quietly moves to the porch, not wanting to upset her with what he knows the package contains, to disturb her with who it’s from after they’ve finally begun to settle back into a lovey-dovey routine with just the two of them again. It feels like he’s walking in slow motion, like he’s wading through a pond made of syrup.

 

The humid summer air envelops him, wraps him in some semblance of security. His fingers are almost eager, ripping off the top of the box like a child digging into presents for Christmas. But of course, there’s no note, not even a small inkling or endearing keepsake he can use as a reminder of the person who sent it. Just an impermanent object, a single flower that is likely to die within a few days, fleeting and as momentary in time as life - just like Izaya.

 

Shinra wouldn’t want it any other way, though - it suits him, and he smiles nostalgically. The black petals are wide, gleaming with purple and maroon stripes off the tint of sunlight from the porch when he inspects it closer. It’s the darkest flower he thinks he’s ever seen, an illusion that is completely devoid of all hue from a distance. Black as night, black as the utility closet at Raijin, black like the clothes Izaya always wears, black like Celty’s shadows.

 

His favorite color.

 

It’s a finality, a conclusion that sets uneasiness in the depths of Shinra’s heart, but also warms his cheeks. He’s been cursed by the mark of a love he never wanted, the mark of a love he never knew he’d come to return, the mark of a love that might have been something more in another life, in another place, another time.

 

At first he thinks about tossing it vindictively over the edge of the balcony, but then his feet are automatically moving him back, stem firmly grasped in his hand and shielded by his side. Celty turns to him when he slides the door closed behind him, having just noticed he was gone as her game ends.

 

She’s typing, and then Shinra says some lame perverted line that has her bopping him on the head with a shadow rolled into a loose fist. Shinra laughs, skips down the hall into his room without another word.

 

There is one way to beat Izaya at his own game, one way to keep his secret on display for once, for longer than just some dying memory. Shinra’s almost sorry he never thought of it sooner. He grabs a book off the shelf of his desk, one of his diaries with ramblings about his love for Celty. No one will ever know that between those hundreds of pages of thoughts about Celty, are quite a few about Izaya.

 

What’s written exactly, is only for Shinra’s eyes, only for him to ever know. He brings the lily to his face, breathes it in as deep as he can, and then carefully aligns the stem and petals between one of Izaya’s pages.

 

He shuts the book slowly, compressing the flower snugly within it, smiles.

 

And when he goes back to the living room and curls up with Celty - where surprisingly she lets him fall asleep on her lap - he dreams of a field of flowers wrapped in shadows with a person pressed on either side of him, the comforting smell of sweetness permeating all around them as they drown together in a sea of black petals.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> At least I snuck some cute parts in there ~~before tearing your hearts out~~ , right? Haha.
> 
> I don’t want to give away too much, but here’s general flower types and meaning. Interpretation of why I used them when I did is for you to guess. Those who want to seriously analyze it, and end up on the right track, I am offering to write some side stories as prizes from this au. Those who win I will let know, and as long as it’s not anonymously, I will message you asking about what time period you would like and what you’d like me to write. It doesn’t have to be any crazy long analysis, it’s whatever you’re thoughts are on it.
> 
> For example of a prize, there’s a lot of gaps in time, and if you want a more detailed look at the Shinceltyzaya smut dynamics, Raijin days bad flirting (perhaps Shizuo or Kadota catches Izaya leaving flowers one day...), Shinceltyzaya fluff, the mysterious Shizaya incident, Shinzaya or Shincelty sexy separate times, etc, etc. I’ll write practically anything within reason for this au! Length of prize will vary by how accurately or closely you get to the way I intended it.
> 
>  
> 
> Yellow rose, yellow & red camellia: Yellow flowers usually mean brightness, and often represent friendship, but with the flowers I used I found they held slightly different meanings. The yellow rose is a symbol of jealousy (like a jealous friendship or love), while the yellow camellia represents longing. Camellias are sort of a flower of love, especially red ones. They can mean passion and desire, much like a red rose. In Japan, it represents the divine, and is often used in religious and sacred ceremonies.
> 
> White heather: White heather is a flower of protection (from danger), and also used to make one’s wishes come true.
> 
> Fringed orchid: Orchids can be a symbol of love, purity, strength, and beauty, and vary in meaning depending on color. The fringed orchid in particular - from what I could find of it - simply means “My love will follow you into your dreams”. The colors used - white (innocence, elegance and beauty), pink (femininity, grace, happiness, reverence, and humility), orange (pride, enthusiasm and boldness). Ah, I wonder which Izaya meant to convey?
> 
> (Horseshoe) Geraniums: These are sort of like the ‘fuck you’ of flowers. It’s the equivalent of calling someone stupid. Peculiar these, though...it’s not really Izaya’s style, is it? ;)
> 
> Gardenias: Shinra talks a bit about gardenias while he’s upset, and generally gardenias mean a secret or hidden love. That’s all I’m saying, though this is fairly obvious.
> 
> Yellow Tulip: Yellow again, but with a tulip, the connotation is more negative depending on the situation. This in particular is often used for one-sided or painful love. What Izaya meant may not be as obvious as it first seems.
> 
> Red Spider Lily: Red is usually a symbol of passion and desire, as I’m sure you all know, but like the yellow it’s different here. Combined with this particular type of lily, the message conveyed would be something along the lines like “Never to meet again/Lost memory/Abandonment”. This is one of my favorites, tbh, because the Japanese actually use these flowers a lot in funerals. That’s because they are a flower thought in many legends in China and Japan as ones that grow in hell and guide the dead to reincarnation. Some legends say that if you were to see someone you’d never meet again, these flowers would bloom along the path.
> 
> Black (calla) Lily: Black...ah, well. It’s the color of death, of endings, and of lies. In this case, the black lily can mean love, decadence, and lustiness, but also holds dual meaning with “curse”. The black lily with negative connotation, often means saying goodbye or as a final gift at the end of a relationship. It is toxic if ingested. 
> 
> Other mentions if you’d like to pry deeper (they do hold meaning, not just random):
> 
> Succulents (middle school biology room): usually used as wedding flowers. Hint: It’s actually very simple if you think of Shinra’s character a little  
> Carnations (middle school biology room): love, fascination, and distinction...remember, Izaya is letting them die. Think novel 9 (THIS IS NOT A JOKE I SWEAR)  
> Lotus flowers (high school botany room): I’m using the Buddhist meaning, not Egyptian. It stands for purity, spiritual awakening and faithfulness, but also suggestive of desire, which leads it to be associated with spiritual enlightenment.  
> Red roses (Shinra’s bedroom, presumably from Izaya): love, desire, passion, lust, romance. I sort of...just gave you all a hint...


End file.
